


A piece of the Action

by oooknuk



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: BDSM, Heavy BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 04:11:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10779297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oooknuk/pseuds/oooknuk
Summary: Duncan finds being 'masterful' isn't all it's cracked up to be.





	A piece of the Action

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: BDSM (including heavy play), m/m and language. 
> 
> There is a recreation of the Native American ritual, [the "sun dance"](http://www.allaboutheaven.org/observations/93/127/sun-dance-ceremony-000085) as part of one man's sadomasochistic pleasure in this story. When I wrote this fifteen years ago, I was ignorant of the problems of appropriation of native culture, and so this aspect may be offensive to many. I apologise in advance and urge you not to read it if you are likely to find this distressing.

"Oh, bloody _hell_ ," I heard Methos say as he read his mail. I looked over at him, and he had gone bright red. Now, not much embarrasses my lover, so I was immediately curious.

"Someone send you a picture of themselves naked with an Alsatian?"

"No, much better. An invitation to a birthday party. For both of us."

"A party? But ...."

"Hosted by Amanda. For Eric."

Oh. Now, my own face got hot, and I knew now why he was so red - it wasn't embarrassment, I realised. It was sudden, ball tightening arousal. Amanda's parties were ... inventive ... at the best of times, but Methos and I both knew she would want something extra special for our beloved Eric. "Black tie?'

"Cock rings, collars and nipple clamps for subs, masters in all white or all black, as they choose." He turned to look at me, and the gleam in his eye was most ... well, I found the paperwork I was doing suddenly unappealing. "I take it you want to go."

"God, yes." The heavier side of Methos' sexual interests was something I could only really appreciate as a caring outsider, but I liked to watch him having fun, and Amanda's parties were always exciting. I had a feeling the evening was going to be very special indeed.

It was two weeks away, and Methos prepared for it almost as carefully as he had done our wedding, twenty-five years before. I was to be his 'master' for the evening (since Eric was the guest and to be entertained, it wasn't appropriate for him to act as Methos' dom), and I was asked to pore over catalogues and photos to help him pick the right collar, and other equipment. Amanda had requested that no gifts were brought - since it was the scene itself which was the gift and so Methos was anxious to make everything perfect. I did not escape his attentions - he bought me a completely new outfit, a black high collared silk shirt, black linen slacks, and even a black leather hair tie which he planned to braid into my ponytail.

"I look like a bloody ninja," I complained as he made me dress in the new outfit for a try out, fussing about to ensure the best fit and placement.

"You look _hot_ , Mac. That's the point."

The event was to be at a private hotel owned by Amanda these last ten years - holy ground, which was convenient, since most of the other guests were either Immortal or the lovers of Immortals. She was to be the only woman there, and I could imagine my former lover's thrill at being surrounded by a swag of nearly naked men in their physical prime, all obedient to her wishes.

We drove up that morning to give us time to relax and get ready for the party that evening. I had to take the wheel, Methos was too jittery. "Will you relax?" I finally snapped. "It's not a final exam."

"I just want it all to go well for him."

"Methos, Eric loves you, loves both of us and Amanda, just you being here will be enough."

He gave me an annoyed look as if I didn't understand, and I resolved that my 'slave' would have to pay for that later on. After all, I hadn't been helping Eric beat the hell out of him for over ten years for nothing. And besides, Methos wasn't the only one hoping things would go well. Eric's birthday was near enough to our anniversary that I'd wanted to make it special for Methos too, as my gift to him. I just hoped I could keep a straight face.

His first inkling of my intentions came as we closed the door of the bedroom we were staying in. "Now, slave, remove my clothes."

" _Slave_?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Did I say you could speak?"

He got it then, he was never slow on the uptake. "No, master," he answered demurely. I waited while he dropped his knees and respectfully undid my laces and removed my shoes and socks. There wasn't _quite_ the degree of respect in his laughing eyes as he rose to undo my shirt that Eric might have expected, but his actions were entirely those of an obedient servant, carefully removing my shirt and clothes, and folding them neatly. He stepped back and waited politely, his hands crossed in front of him.

"Very good, but I am going to have to punish you for your disobedience, and your earlier insolence."

"Yes, Master Duncan," he said with a grin.

"But first, I want to use the bathroom. You will undress and kneel, and wait for my pleasure."

"Yes, master." Ooh, was that a little bit of real deference there? Slipping up, old man?

I took my time, peeing and having a shower. Eric had shown me how anticipation really heightened a sub's enjoyment, and since Methos had no idea what was going through my mind, and his imagination was lively to say the very least, I thought he was probably amusing himself out there.

I sauntered out, and he was kneeling in the approved display position, hands behind his back, knees outspread, his erection already full and bobbing. He looked, as he always did, good enough to eat with a spoon, but I put on a severe expression. "Doesn't take much to get you ready, does it, slave? You're just such a little slut."

He looked up at me and blinked. Hell, I can read, and I've been watching - we'd never done this before, just between ourselves, but that didn't mean I couldn't do it if I wanted. If he minded, I would already know about it. "I believe you have something to say?" I hinted.

"Yes, master. I am a slut, master. And I am sorry for disobeying you."

"And?"

He frowned, then remembered. "Oh, and I am sorry for being so insolent earlier."

"Not nearly good enough, slave. However, I'm sure you can show me how sorry you are. I want you to use your mouth, but you are not to make me come, or to come yourself."

"Yes, master."

"And keep your hands where they are."

"Yes, sir." I stayed where I was, so he had to shuffle over on his knees to me. He knew to keep himself on display at all times. Even though the true appeal of his enjoyment of pain escaped me, I always enjoyed the chance to see his beautiful body in its fully aroused state, especially when he was sweaty and heaving. It always got me hard just thinking about it.

I clenched my teeth so as not to call out when his lips met my cock. He had always been too good at this. We'd never done it before with the intention of not making me come - I wondered if he would remember or get carried away.

He took me in so deep his throat closed around the tip of my erection, and then he swallowed a couple of times. That nearly made me come then and there, as the moist silky muscle caressed my cockhead like his hand might do, the pressure and movement maddeningly arousing. But then he backed off and began a gentle back and forth motion. Maddening but not enough - not quite - to bring me off. Clever bastard, he took me to the edge a couple of times, then slowed down.

Finally I called a halt before I embarrassed myself. "Hmmm, barely adequate, I suppose," knowing it would annoy him.

It did. He glared at me. 'Adequate?' I could hear him thinking but I couldn't punish a thought. Could I?

"Go and kneel on the bed and wait for me."

He rose gracefully. Damn, everything about him turned me on, even his cocky little saunter which didn't exactly scream submission. I unlocked our suitcase and found the leather bag I'd put in after he'd finished packing. I wouldn't collar him - I would keep that for the party - but there were a few things which could go on now. Or in.

I threw the bag on the bed. He was staring straight ahead, as finely drawn as an alabaster statue. It was all I could do not to drag him down and fuck him on the spot, but that would hardly have been special for him. "You are to keep your hands behind your back and not make a sound. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master. Permission to speak?"

"Denied. Shut up, slave. I intend to punish your disobedient ass and you can just take it."

He lifted his eyebrows but said nothing. I knew his safe word, and I knew that if I crossed the line, he would just get up and stop the whole thing. But while he was a little surprised, I couldn't see any sign of anger, and his cock was telling me he was enjoying it so far. I had no intention of taking this anywhere near where Eric would have - or where he would go tonight. This was just a little appetiser.

I rubbed his left nipple and it peaked immediately. I wanted to kiss it, but that wasn't very masterful, so I pinched it gently instead. He jerked just a tiny bit in surprise but then went very still. He was, after all, trained by the best. "You know, I didn't like those nipple clamps we chose after all," I told him. "So I ordered these on-line. Much better for a little slut like you."

I showed them to him and his eyes grew enormous. The clamps weren't quite as nasty as some Eric used, but they were a damn sight more painful than the ones we had compromised on. He'd asked for these, and I'd turned him down. Now he saw why, and grinned. "I'll wipe that smile off your face soon, slave. Now, don't move."

Inside, I was fighting the urge to laugh out loud. Methos' mouth opened like a baby bird's, waiting for sustenance, hungry for the delicious agony he loved as I flicked his nipple into erectness again before putting the clamp on, and giving it a little tug. He jerked again, but his cock got even harder. Good, I thought.

I spent a little time pinching and pulling his nipples, twisting the clamps until he was shuddering, because I knew he loved it, and then I pulled out the leather bands I wanted to use to bind his hands and his balls. "Permission to speak, Mac?"

I stopped. "What?"

"I really need to piss."

Actually, I guessed that from the way I'd felt when we arrived, but this was all part of my plan. "Five minutes, okay?"

He nodded. "Thank you, master. "

I moved behind him and tied his wrists securely, and then attached a tie to each clamp. He wriggled a little as I carefully bound his balls and his cock as Eric had shown me how to do, then attached the ties on the clamps to the cock bindings so he would get a little tug every time he moved. "Turn around and then put your head on the bed."

He obeyed and his lovely bum presented itself, waiting for me. He'd cleaned himself before we left our house, and would probably do so again before the party, so all I had to do was lube him thoroughly, which I did with a lightly mentholated cream he liked because of the slight cool burn. I knew his bladder was pressing on him, but it wouldn't kill him to wait as I leisurely probed and stretched him. "Hmmm. You're tight. I think you need a little preparation before you get fucked, Methos." I showed him the butt plug I planned to use. Bigger and longer than the ones we used at home, with ridges - in fact, it was one Eric had given me a year ago but I'd never had the courage to use on myself or on him.

He gasped as I eased it into him, and I slapped his bottom gently to remind him to keep quiet. I had to go slow or I would hurt him - it was really huge, even though Methos had taken bigger. It would be pressing on his full bladder for sure. I moved it in and out a few times and he squirmed a little. Good. "Kneel up, then stand up." I helped him get off the bed. Any misgivings I had that I was messing up were relieved by his happy expression. My lover was enjoying this. A lot. To my surprise, so was I.

I tugged on the nipple ties to make him follow me. "You said you wanted to piss, come on." He baulked at that. "Slave, am I your master?"

"Yes, sir," he said a little warily. I knew the reason he was worried - he wasn't a big fan of water sports. Well, neither was I.

"And does your cock belong to me and me alone?"

"Yes, master Duncan. It's all yours."

"So I'm going to help you take a leak. If you have a problem with that, we can stop that right now."

"No, master, I don't have a problem. I am happy for you to help me piss, sir."

"Don't overdo it, Methos," I growled, trying not to smile, then pulled him along by the ties between his tits and his balls.

This being Amanda's place, and given what went on here, it wasn't surprising that there was a mirror behind the loo, just as there was one behind the bed. I stood behind him and held his cock, admiring the image we made together. "Whose are you?" I asked, slowly moving my other hand from his neck to his crotch.

"Yours, Duncan," he said, slipping out of the role. I shook his cock a little to remind him. "Sorry, master. I am yours, master."

"Better," I said, but then I grinned. "Okay, get on with it. " Pissing with an erection was hard, and I hadn't helped any, quite deliberately. I had to push his cock down so the stream hit the bowl, which tugged on his nipples. I also cupped his balls, rolling them and stimulating him, and for a moment there I wasn't sure if he was going to pee or come. I didn't think he knew either.

I wiped him with a soft cloth afterwards. "You may speak."

His mouth quirked at my lofty tone. "Thank you for letting me piss, sir."

"Too right. Next time, you be ready for me and what ever I want to do with you."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry. Will you punish me now?"

"Oh yes, you sorry excuse for a slave. Get your ass back in the bedroom and stand at the end of the bed. Face the wall."

Again, I waited in the bathroom for a few minutes, letting him think about what I was going to do to him. I knew Amanda had far worse in mind for him, but he'd told me more than once not every scene had to be screaming agony. He liked being spanked as much as flogged. I didn't care to spank him, but I wasn't going to flog him. Not much, anyway.

He was utterly still when I returned to the bedroom, but his dark eyes were bright with excitement. Amanda's rooms had discreet fittings which made games much easier, and I had already located the rings at the top of the bed frame and in the floor. I disliked chains, leather was much softer and pleasant to handle and I had brought quite a number of ties with me, because of their general usefulness in scenes like these.

Now I fixed four of them, two above his head and two near his feet. "Spread your legs as far as you can."

When he obeyed, I secured him in that position, before unbinding his hands and tying them to the bed frame, leaving him spread-eagled and ready for whatever I wanted to do to his lovely body. His pectoral and abdominal muscles stood out in sharp relief, and his biceps bunched against the strain of holding his arms outstretched - it was a shame he didn't like to make a show of his body, because he was naturally powerful in a way that I had to work ceaselessly to achieve. I gave his nipples a tug or two just to keep him warmed up, then I moved around to where I could see his face. "Slave, you have displeased me several times. I'm afraid I have no choice but to beat you."

I saw his slight worry in the mirror - not, I'm sure on his behalf. "Methos?" I asked, dropping out of the role. "What's wrong?"

"Duncan, do you know what you're doing? Don't do this just because you think I want it."

I slapped his bum to signal we were back in the game. "Are you questioning my ability, slave? After all the time I've spent watching Master Eric play with your worthless carcass?"

Still a smidgeon of concern but he played along. "No, sir. Please, sir, do with me as you wish."

"I don't recall asking your permission. First, I am going to use a flogger on you." I looked at his expression, and he nodded slightly. Despite my mean persona, I kissed him between the shoulder blades, in apology for worrying him. "I'm going to redden your ass, slave, then I am going to whip you with a riding crop. Ten strokes for speaking out of turn, ten for being slow on the uptake, ten for insolence, and ten for your dirty look earlier on. Then I am going to fuck you and then, and only then, you might be allowed to come. You have something to say?"

He swallowed. "Thank you, master. I am grateful for your correcting my behaviour, master."

"So you should be. Do you want something to drink, Methos?"

"Yes, please, I'm thirsty."

There was bottled water in the little fridge, and he drank gratefully. "Okay?" I asked softly, caressing his cheek.

"I'm good," he whispered, then more loudly, "I'm ready for your correction, sir."

"No, I think I've changed my mind. You can stay in that position until I've had a drink myself."

I saw his expression of disappointment - he liked to be tied up, but he didn't like to be just left there without being flogged or played with - but I liked to look at him spread like this and waiting would just make his mind work harder.

I kept my eye on him as I made myself a leisurely cup of tea, sitting in the armchair next to the bed, facing him. I played with myself to keep myself erect, and his eyes followed my every move. His own cock was diamond hard and dripping a little - it would be a challenge not to make him come immediately, but he had impressive control as I had seen many times up at Eric's retreat. "Do you want me, slave?"

"Yes, sir. I want your cock inside me."

"Then perhaps you won't be so cheeky next time we have to do this."

His eyes lit up. "Next time, sir?"

"Not if you misbehave any more, slave."

"No, sir. Sir, please."

"Please, what?"

"Please, I want you to punish me."

I shook my head. "No, you don't deserve it. Perhaps you could convince me?"

I was really ad libbing it here - Methos and Eric didn't play like this. Submissiveness was only a small part of what they did, and there was no playacting at all. Eric knew Methos loved pain and there was no fooling about pretending to punish him. He just went to and flogged him or tortured him or whatever they'd agreed - the pleasure was in the way Eric slowly built up the sensations, and made Methos wait for everything, dominating and controlling his every reaction and movement.

I couldn't do that, it wasn't in my nature. But Methos was always joking that I was a natural dom, so that was what I'd decided to do, and to my relief, he was accepting it. But would he go this far? To accept this degree of submission to me? I'd have to see.

He seemed too surprised by what I'd asked to answer me. "I see you aren't serious, slave. Perhaps I should have a swim - I'm feeling hot."

That got his attention. "Sir, please, sir, I need you to punish me. I was very wrong to disobey you, sir. I need your wonderful cock inside me. Please, I want you to beat me hard with your riding crop, until I'm begging for mercy."

I stared at him, biting my lip to stop the laughter escaping, and I had a suspicion his tongue was nearly inside his nose from being in his cheek so hard. If we didn't get on with this, the game would disappear into farce. I sighed dramatically to cover my hilarity. "Well, I suppose I could swim afterwards. But you are an enormous pain in the backside, slave."

"Yes, sir. So are you, I hope."

I had to turn away to hide my grin. God, Methos, you are just.... "We'll see. Now, you know the rule. Don't come - if you get close, you have to tell me. Okay?"

"Yes, sir. I will try my best to please you, sir."

Like hell, I thought. This master thing was hard work. I stood behind him and let him feel my erection against his buttocks. Damn, the warmth of his soft skin, that cleft which seemed to welcome me home made it so hard to keep up the script - I wanted him there and then. "Would you like this inside you?"

"Oh, God yes, Master sir."

"Then behave."

I made sure he saw the multistranded soft leather flogger I was going to use, and that it was in good condition. I'd practiced with Eric a few times since the first time he'd introduced me to this sort of play, but I was still a little nervous. It was harder, although not impossible, to really injure someone with a flogger, which was why I'd decided to use it. It didn't hurt much, not compared to just about anything else I could have used including my bare hand, but the sensations were nice, and they did make a bottom's bottom redden beautifully.

Methos yelled a few times, but I think it was for show. I beat him on his lovely bum until it glowed, and then I surprised him by cooling it down a little with ice from the fridge. "Oooh," he gasped, flinching instinctively, but stilling just as quickly as I iced him down again.

"Quiet, slave, it doesn't hurt."

"No, sir, it's lovely, sir. Do it again." I shook my head - Eric never had to put up with this cheekiness.

"I'm going to warm up your back now, okay?" He nodded, then jerked as the leather strands hit his ribs, and then his backside again. He was building up a sweat, and his head moved continuously as he got into the sensations. He moaned when I stopped hitting him, and I cupped the back of his head. "Crop next. Are you ready?" I asked gently.

"Yes." He was starting to be inside subspace so I didn't punish him for omitting the 'sir'. "Please," he begged.

He yelled for real as the leather crop hit his backside. Eric had shown me this technique, and I'd been practicing on the sly, when Methos thought I was working on katas, but I still anxiously monitored his skin for any sign that I had misjudged my swing. At least four hundred years of sword work had given me a lot of control.

I'd thought about making Methos count the strokes, but that always smacked too much of real punishment for me, and this was supposed to be enjoyable. Instead I counted them for him. His gasps were a mixture of arousal and the shock of each blow, but his cock stayed hard, and more importantly, his sensitive skin never broke. I spread the blows down his back and over his buttocks, and a couple not too hard ones over his thighs. He tugged at his bonds, and moved a little, but he knew to keep as still as he could bear.

I've never enjoyed watching someone in pain. I've never, ever gotten off on causing pain. But there was something incredibly erotic about Methos' reactions to what I was doing, the clenching of his buttocks ... I wanted to stop and caress those powerful glutes, that I knew could tighten against me, around me so deliciously when we made love. His breathing heaved as it did when he was in the throes of passion - in fact, all his movements reminded me of when he lost himself to me in bed, and my cock responded as if I was making love, not beating the crap out of him. Knowing that to him, I was making love in a way, only strengthened my arousal.

The last blow fell and I tossed the crop aside. He was running with sweat, and panting by the time I was finished. I moved behind him and held him gently. "Are you okay, Methos?"

He lifted his weary head and turned it for a kiss. "I'm flying, Duncan. Take me, please."

I needed no more urging. I removed the huge butt plug carefully - he moaned as he felt the emptiness it left, but it wouldn't last for long. I slid a couple of fingers inside him and felt for the gland, curling my fingers around it, knowing I'd hit it by the way he tensed and the way his cock jumped in my hand. His nipple clamps would cause him pain but I knew from past observations he liked them on while he was fucked. He moaned again as my cock entered him in a strong, smooth glide, and he pushed back, trying to get me to thrust. "Easy, love," I whispered, stroking his erection and holding him steady by his hip. "Don't rush it." He was tightening around me, pulling my cock inside him. I pulled out a little, and pushed in again. Less than either of us needed, but I didn't want to hurry this.

His head thrashed as I did it again. "Please, Duncan!"

"Hush." I pulled back and then thrust in harder this time.

"Aaah!" he yelled. "God, Mac!" Again, I thrust into his hot body, and jacked his erection. He was urging me to go harder, faster, and I began a steady, punishing rhythm with my cock and my hand.

The noise he was making was quite astonishing, and I hoped to God that Amanda had sound-proofed rooms. Despite the fact I had been aroused for so long, I amazed myself slightly by not coming as fast as I feared I might, just from the sounds he was making. It helped that I had to concentrate on him - I wanted to prolong this because it would be so much better for him if I did. I made sure I never quite got the rhythm right to make him climax, and he was wild with frustration before I came hard, biting his ear, my knees going a little weak, and waves of contractions rippling through my pelvis as I spent my essence inside his heat. "Come for me, Methos," I whispered harshly into his ear, moving my hand on the smooth skin of his cock with a more determined rhythm and with a strangled cry, he did a few seconds later, sagging in his bonds as he finally gained the relief he'd been begging for.

I'd caught his come in my hand and now I raised it to his lips to clean. Eagerly he did so, and then suckled my fingers as I soothed him, stroking the unbeaten parts of his back, avoiding the already healing bruises, and praising him for being so beautiful, so good. He cried out a little as I removed the nipple clamps, rubbing the abused parts until the blood flow returned, and kissing the back of his neck until the pain had gone. When he had calmed and his breathing was steady again, I unbound his ankles, and freed his cock and balls. I got my pocket-knife, and holding him carefully, I sliced through the wrist bindings - he almost fell before I lowered him to the bed onto his side. I lay next to him and wrapped an arm over him, stroking his sweaty, tear streaked face gently. "Sweet merciful Jesus," he said reverently. "I never thought you had it in you, Mac. Thank you."

"You enjoyed it?"

"Can't you tell, you Scottish lughead? I'm a mess, and it's all your fault."

I laughed and kissed his forehead. "Poor baby. Why don't you rest? It's hours before the party starts."

He cuddled closer. "Stay with me?"

"Of course. Just rest, Methos. Do you need anything?"

"No, just you," he said contentedly. He closed his eyes and I pulled him as close as I could. I was as tired as he was - it always surprised me how exhausted the concentration I had to bring to bear in scenes made me, and there was nothing like earth-shattering sex for that all over, limp as a noodle feeling. I smiled - making love with this man always reduced me to jelly, in the nicest possible way. He snuffled a little and got a little more comfortable, but he was already out of it.

He would probably sleep for a couple of hours and then we could clean up and get ready for the main event. Until then, we could both relax.

 

* * *

He slept for nearly three hours, and although I didn't sleep quite so long, I was more than happy to just lie there and hold him, stroking his hair and admiring the strong features which I had admired even before I fell in love with him. Joe always said I'd fallen in love the minute I met the world's oldest man - but I know it wasn't until after the O'Rourke business and the strange vision I'd had about my friends. I almost lost him then, as a friend and as a lover to be.

I was sick at heart and weary of the world, and retreated inwards for weeks. The only person I'd let near me was Amanda, and that only for making love - I didn't want to get involved in her scrapes or meet her friends any more, and finally she'd got sick of being used like a sex toy. She packed her things and told me she was leaving, and that would serve me right because I would be all alone as I clearly wanted to be. I'd thrown back at her that I had Joe and I had Methos. "Methos? He's leaving," she said in disgust. "And Joe's asked to be reassigned."

In shock, I'd made her sit down and tell me what she knew. Methos was clearing everything out - not just his apartment, but Don Salzar's old shop and the basement in which Methos had stored some of his private papers. Not only that, but he'd resigned his job, and Amanda was sure he was looking to create a new identity. I panicked - I don't even think I said goodbye to her, just flew out of the barge and literally ran all the way to his apartment. He was still there, but only just, and what I found shocked me. He looked ill - tired, thin, depressed, too much like he'd been when Alexa died - but when I asked in God's name what was wrong with him, he threw a punch which knocked me out cold. When I woke up, he was gone.

Fortunately, only as far as Joe's. I had a lot of butt kissing to do in that department - my Watcher hadn't approved of my dealing with O'Rourke the way I'd planned to, and had _really_ been pissed off by my hermit act afterwards - but finally Joe let me into the office, where Methos was working himself down a bottle of Scotch. He tried to leave then, and pulled his sword when I grabbed him to stop him going, but what shocked me was that he was on the verge of tears. Methos? He'd only cried when Alexa was dying. And when she died, of course. It had taken a lot of patient questioning before he admitted what was wrong - that he was in love and the one he loved didn't know or care. I was shocked - how had he fallen in love, and with whom, without my knowing anything about it?

He might have still been lost to me, if I had been left to my own stupidity. Fortunately, Joe delivered the kick in the behind I needed. Methos has dried his eyes, sobered up and promised me faithfully he wouldn't leave town until I had a chance to help him out, before he insisted he had to go home and sort out things, if he wasn't leaving Paris after all. Like an idiot, I let him go. "Well, that's the last we'll see of him," Joe had said bitterly.

"He's not leaving, he just promised me."

"And maybe monkeys will fly out of my ass, MacLeod. He's gonna run."

"He's in love, Joe. All I need to do is help him out, talk to the woman, maybe."

"It ain't no woman, Mac, that's for sure."

Methos was gay? Well, I suppose I'd already guessed that he was bisexual, most of us are. I'd just assumed that like me, he normally preferred women. "Whatever. I can still help him."

"Well, here you go," he'd said, handing me his gun.

"What the hell do I need this for?"

"You're too fucking stupid to live, MacLeod. Shoot yourself and save me the trouble."

I put the gun down on the bar. "You know, Joe Dawson, sometimes, I don't like you very much."

"And you know something, Duncan Fucking MacLeod of the Clan Frigging Clueless? Sometimes, I can't stand you at all. But Methos is in love with you, don't ask me why, and all you can do is mouth on about how you want to help him. You want to help him? Open your eyes, shut your mouth, then get the hell out of my bar and go after the old bugger."

Joe was coldly furious with me as I'd never seen him, and I didn't really know why. Later, I realised it was because he was afraid for Methos, who had entrusted him with his secret. But at the time, his apparently irrational anger barely registered against the background of what he'd just told me. "Methos is in love with me? Are you crazy?"

"MacLeod, I just told you to get moving. If you're serious about Methos, get your butt into gear. He's fixing to go, one way or the other."

His words sent a chill through my heart - I knew what he was saying. Methos had tried to kill himself once for my sake. The sad, tired man who'd left five minutes before was perfectly capable .... "I have to go," I said, heading for the door. I might have heard something about " 'bout goddamn time" behind me, but I was too intent on my quarry.

Luckily, Methos was on foot, and not exactly making any speed. He was, if anything, in a daze, and if I had been any other Immortal, I could have taken his head with pathetic ease. He seemed confused as to why I was suddenly bearing down on him and let me pin him against a wall without a murmur of complaint. He'd given up, I realised with horror. "Methos, please don't leave," I pleaded, holding him by his shoulders.

"I wasn't going anywhere, Mac," he murmured, his eyes closing as if it was all too much to put up with. His passivity worried me - I'd expected him to shove back.

"Joe said ... one way or the other ...."

His head snapped up at that. "I asked Joe to keep out of this," he said.

"Well, he didn't." I had to ask. "Methos, are you in love with me?"

His face closed down and I saw the walls go up. "Let me go, MacLeod. This is a stupid conversation for two adults to have in the middle of a street, and my private life is none of your concern."

"It is when I'm the one making you unhappy."

He laughed, sadly and not for long. "You aren't. I am. Mac, please, don't humiliate me in public like this."

"Then come back to the barge and talk. Methos, I can't lose you from my life."

"Amanda's at the barge, and you already have lost me. You don't need us any more, Mac. You proved that last month."

"How? By nearly getting killed?"

"By nearly getting killed no matter what that would have done to the rest of us. Nothing we could do or say would have stopped you that night. I realised that I was ... unnecessary."

"No!" I cried out, and he winced. One or two passers-by were already stopping to look curiously. "Come back to the barge," I begged.

"Why? Mac, this is stupid. Just leave me to get on with my life."

I pushed him back against the wall. "You have no intention of doing that, don't try and kid me, Methos. You're looking to lose your head, or run off and we'll never see you again. I can't let you do either of those things."

"You can't stop me."

"Wanna bet?" He glared at me, his expression miserable and angry. I was fully prepared to knock him down, steal his gun and shoot him. Anything but accept that I could lose him. "Please. Come and talk. Amanda's gone."

"When?"

I looked at my watch. "About three hours ago. I pissed her off, and thank God I did or I wouldn't have found you. Please, come with me." I raised a hand to his cheek. "Give me a chance?"

He leaned into my hand, and I saw the pain of his longing for me so clearly, like a living thing. It was at that moment I fell, I think. Methos was no pathetic weakling, or a fool, but for all the hurt I had given him he had thrown his love away on me. Suddenly I saw him not as a rival Immortal, not as the world's oldest man, but just as another human, wanting love, wanting to connect, so desperate because he felt he could never have me that he was literally dying of it.

Dying. I could really lose him this time, to the real death, just as I had come so close to doing not long after I'd met him, and had barely known who or what he was. Or as I had so nearly done when Cassandra raised Silas' axe over his head, ready to take his revenge. I had known that despair when Tessa ... when the last person I had truly, deeply loved .... just as I loved him ... if he died ... if he left. No. No one else. I couldn't lose another person I loved. Not another Tessa. Not Methos.

"Methos, please," I said again, and then leaned in, my body masking him from the street, and kissed him lightly, quickly, on the lips. All that I dared in so public a place. Would it be enough?

He tensed for flight immediately. "MacLeod, I won't be mocked," he said, shoving me, but I was ready for it, and using my position of advantage, prevent him moving.

"I don't do things like that, Methos. Whatever else you think of me, I'm not like that."

He stared at me, confused and hurt, his cheeks bloodless. "Tell me you aren't toying with me. That you meant that."

I clasped his hand to my chest, holding it like I never meant to let it go. "I mean it. On my name and on the honour of my clan. I love you, Methos. I've only just worked it out, but I swear by all I hold holy that it's true."

He sagged a little then, and I held him close, not giving a damn what it looked like. "Oh, God, I'm dreaming."

"No, you aren't, old man, but you're tired and cold, and in shock." I kissed his forehead, felt the weak trembling in all his limbs, and could have wept for the pain I had caused him. "Let me help. Let me _love_ you."

And for twenty-five years and counting, that's what he's been doing. Letting me love him, loving me, making my life whole in a way I'd given up on.

It seemed a funny way to repay someone for such a gift by beating them, but I'd long got used to the fact that Methos liked this particular spice in his lovemaking, and sometimes outside it. It didn't repel me, in fact, it fascinated me, even if it wasn't something I could really get into myself. It continually amazed me that Methos was a stronger person for submitting to another person, not weaker. And I still had to pinch myself when I looked at him like this, asleep and vulnerable, and remembered who exactly he was. And that for all that, he was all mine.

I stroked back the floppy fringe - in all his anxiety to get ready for the party, he'd forgotten to get it cut - and ran a finger over the long straight brows. There was nothing feminine about him - no woman would want that nose, I thought fondly, touching the magnificent beak - but he lacked the coarseness of my other male lovers. He wasn't hairy, or weather roughened, his first death taking him at his physical prime. He couldn't tell me how old he was when he died the first time - he just didn't remember, and he'd explained that the way they measured years back then probably made any guess he made a nonsense - but he was younger than I had been. Had he come from the Semitic races? He was pale skinned, and had so little facial or body hair it was hard to imagine him as an Arab. I had a sudden vision of him dressed in the white Bedouin wedding robes Peter O'Toole had donned in "Lawrence of Arabia". I could just see him, with his hawkish nose and dark eyes, peering out over the sands. I grinned. I'd never had heard the end of it if I told him about this particular fantasy.

He moved a little, and I knew he would wake soon. We still had plenty of time. I was in no hurry to get up. Not with him heavy in my arms like this. It felt like a gift.

 

* * *

We'd only just finished a shared and rather stimulating bath when Amanda knocked on our door and then came straight on in. I doubt she would have hesitated even if we'd been in the middle of sex, but all she saw were a pair of damp naked men, and I knew that wasn't the first time she'd seen that. Without hurry I handed Methos a robe, and put one on myself. "Duncan, honey, I've missed you," she said, kissing me and hugging me tight. I noticed she'd changed perfumes again. Something with cinnamon this time.

"Hi, Amanda, nice to see you too," Methos said dryly, but with a grin. That got him equal treatment.

"Darlings, you look wonderful, the pair of you."

"So do you, Amanda," I said, speaking nothing but the truth. Purple was this year's colour, apparently, and as was the fashion, she was purple all over - her hair, her nails, her clothes, all the same immaculate shade. I had no doubt her pubic hair matched too since the new dyes were easily applied and easily removed. "Is everyone here?"

"Everyone but Eric, but he won't get here until just before we get started. Methos, sweetie, are you all set?"

Methos was to be the centrepiece of the entertainment. Saving the best to last, I called it. He and Amanda had been feverishly exchanging emails all week to establish what they were going to do to give the party a good show. The only restriction was the immutable one we had established right at the beginning, when we first started to visit Eric at Amanda's suggestion - no one made him come but me. He insisted on that. Anything else was with his full consent, and mine.

"I'm fine. Duncan's ... ah ... been relaxing me."

I blushed at that, for all my history with Amanda. She just smirked. "I bet. Now, you know you won't be eating downstairs, don't you?" Subs were only going to be allowed to drink - mostly for practical reasons, but aesthetics also. Heavy play on a full stomach could mean a mess.

He nodded. "We'll have a snack soon, let things digest. When do you want us?"

"I'd like everyone to be in place by ten to eight. The slaves will serve at the meal and entertain as they're ordered."

He lifted her hand and kissed it. "It's going to be a hell of a night, Mistress Amanda."

"Oh, I hope so, boys. I love Eric, I really want this to be good for him." She looked at me. "And for you two, of course."

"Of course," I echoed, putting my hand around her waist and hugging her close. "It's good to see you again."

"You too, honey. Why the hell do you leave it so long between visits?"

"My fault, Amanda darling," Methos said cheerfully. "I keep him chained up in the basement, and only take him out for nightly floggings and abuse."

"Really?" she said with delight. "My, my, I'd pay money to see that. Duncan, honey, you sure you wouldn't like to ...?"

I set her loose. "Not even for you, Amanda. Now run along and play."

She stuck her tongue out at me. "Don't mind him, Amanda. He's in a masterful mood," Methos said helpfully, winking at me.

"Oh, _Duncan_ , how exciting!" she purred.

"All right you two, if you're going to keep this up, I'm leaving." I made as if to stalk out the door, but I was caught by two pairs of hands. "I mean it," I warned.

"Ow, poor widdle baby," Methos said with fake concern. "Don't get you feavers all wuffled."

"No, Duncan, sugarlump, stay and play with us," she added.

"Oh, for God's sake," I laughed. "Go on, Amanda. I've only just got him settled down, I don't need you getting him all worked up again."

She pouted but then looked at her watch. "Damn. I do have to go, sweeties." She kissed my cheek again. "See you downstairs later."

Methos looked at me speculatively when I came back from letting her out. "So was all that before just you 'settling' me down?"

I pulled him into a tight embrace. "No, it was my anniversary present to you. One of them, anyway."

His wary expression relaxed. "Oh. Then it was lovely, thank you."

"Yeah, well, don't expect it all the time. That shit is hard work."

"It is, isn't it? Don't worry, love, I won't expect it. But it was a nice surprise." He stretched, then rubbed his cheek against mine. "And I feel great. So much more relaxed."

"Good. Why don't we order a meal and then we can get ready."

The food was excellent, of course, but Methos didn't eat much. He usually fasted before he played with Eric, and always if the purpose of the visit was not for fun. Tonight was something he was taking very seriously so I could see him already beginning to get into subspace, preparing to be used and abused for his own and others pleasure. For myself, his excitement and anxiety, muted though they were now, were beginning to get to me.

I had seen set piece scenes before with multiple participants, but this was a very elite gathering, not only because of the number of Immortals attending, but because they were all hand-picked by Amanda, and all people who had passed Eric's stringent requirements for being allowed into his private world. There weren't going to be any fainting flowers there, that was for sure, or anyone who was less than completely practiced at what they were doing. I was probably the most inexperienced person being allowed to attend - not something I was used to being.

Methos could read me like a book, as usual. "Mac, you'll be fine. All you have to do is display your normal tolerance and intelligence and you'll do beautifully."

"I just wish I knew what you and Amanda were going to be doing."

"I don't know for sure myself. She's made some suggestions, and I've added some more, but most of it is a surprise for me too. I wouldn't have it any other way. All I need to know is to prepare for some heavy play, and that's it. I trust her as I would Eric - or you. I like the way her mind works."

So did I, I remembered, and flushed. "I just find it odd that you and she never ... you know ...." he continued, a little mischievously.

"Methos, I keep telling you, a gentlemen doesn't kiss and tell."

"Oh, I don't want to hear about _kissing_ ," he said with a pout.

"Tough. Let's clean up and get dressed. Or undressed," I said, eyeing his bathrobe.

We both stripped, and he took on himself to dress me, which normally would have driven me around the bend, but I could see he was using it to get into the place in his head he wanted to be, so I let him fuss with me and brush my hair out, playing with the braiding until it was to his satisfaction. "Will I do?" I asked finally.

"God, Mac. You look so damn edible. Bet no one else has a master as good-looking as you."

"Or any master a slave as sexy," I pointed out. "Cock ring?"

"Um, I was thinking. Do you think you could do that thing with the leather ties you did before?"

I was flattered, but a little surprised. "I thought the dress code was for rings."

"That counts. Please, Mac?"

How could I refuse that? I got him to lie on the bed, and then began to stroke him gently into hardness. Even though he'd come three times that day, it wasn't long before I had to take my hand away or he might have climaxed, which meant we'd have to wait until he could get hard again. He looked totally wanton as he lay there, cock pointing at the ceiling, panting slightly. The trousers he'd carefully chosen for me to show off my butt were now painfully tight across other parts of me now, "Damn, I want you," I whispered into his ear, stroking his chest.

"Ma-ac," he complained, "you're going to get wrinkled, and make me all messy again." He touched my face. "Don't worry, there's always afterwards," he said, demurely lowering his lashes. He wasn't doing anything for my restraint. "Duncan, please? We'll be late and that would be unforgivable."

We had an hour, but if we kept stopping like this, he was right, we would be late. "Do you want me to tie up your cock?" I'd never done that before for him, but I'd seen it done.

"Do my balls, and then we can be imaginative."

Then was something strangely primitive and exciting about separating his testicles and wrapping the soft dark leather around them. I stroked the soft skin of the scrotum I had just bisected - it looked uncomfortable, but he seemed completely at ease. I put another band around the base of the balls and his cock, and then showed him the surplus leather. "What should I do with this?"

"Here." He pulled his foreskin back and indicated I should wrap the ties around his cock and keep it retracted. I held my hand back.

"Methos, that's going to hurt like hell."

He rolled his eyes. "Mac, that's kinda the point."

"But I can't ... I mean, ouch. "

"And hitting me with a riding crop wasn't ouch?"

"But this is ... damn it, man, it's your penis!"

He began to giggle and fell back laughing on the bed, holding himself. "Oh, Duncan, you're too fucking amazing."

It was stupid of me, I know - I 'd done much worse to him at Eric's direction. But that was the point - it wasn't my decision. My imagination was too vivid, I guess. "Okay, if it's what you want. If you're sure."

He sat up on his elbows, still laughing quietly. "Yes, I'm sure. It'll feel just perfect and look great, and that's the important thing tonight."

With reluctance I did as he asked, and his cock was soon laced up tight, the head purple and painful looking to my eyes, but he was happy with the result. "That's lovely. The clamps?"

My eye still drawn by his tortured genitals, I went to hand him the clips, but he pushed them back to me. "Please, Mac? I'd like it if you put them on."

There was so much love and trust in his eyes, that it was somehow an honour for him, for me to do this for him. It was a logic I found hard to understand, but easy to tolerate from him. But if I had to do this, I would do it as love, and not as a chore. "Lie down," I told him quietly, and when he did, I took his mouth in a long, deep kiss. "Mine?" I asked softly

"All yours, Mac. You know that."

"Good," I whispered, then kissed my way down his chest and suckled at one brown nub and then the other. He went very quiet and still, but his breathing gave away how much he was enjoying my attentions. "Ready?"

"Mmmm." I slipped one of the clamps onto his left nipple and he hissed, then went still again. I mouthed the cold silver metal and he moaned as I tugged on his tit, but in a way that told me to keep it up, not to stop. I moved to his right nipple and bit it gently, then soothed the bite with my tongue, licking it until it was peaked - his hands moved to my shoulders and despite his concern that I might get wrinkled, he began to knead my flesh like a cat would. The second clamp went on to a little 'oh' from him, but his hands kept working away at me as I kept nibbling him, tugging the clamp a little with my teeth. "Mac, stop...."

I kissed him in the middle of his chest and then sat up. His pupils were fully dilated and his cock was as hard as ever - not just from the bindings, I knew. "Collar?"

"Mmmm." I loved it when I got him so hot that he lost the power of speech

"Sit up, Methos. Better still, stand up."

Reluctantly he gathered his wits, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and I helped him stand. I held out a few more of the ties. "Would you like me to tie this like I did earlier? Here and here?" pointing to his cock and the clamps. He was obviously surprised at my initiative, but he nodded, and arched as I brushed against the clamps to attach the thin straps. I pulled them down tight and tied the dangling strings around the top of his cock. I have to admit, it looked sexy _and_ incredibly painful.

He was swaying slightly and his eyes had the slightly drugged look I knew well - he was starting to get high from the endorphins. Sometimes he used that high to push himself past the mental confusions and depression his great age brought with it, but mostly he used it for pleasure, as now. I always slightly regretted how it isolated him from me, just a bit, but my answer to that was to always be with him when he experienced it, and to hold him as he came down. Just as I knew I would tonight.

I left him briefly to get the mentholated cream we were using, and knelt despite his protests that I was getting my clothes crushed again. "Hush, man, and do as you're told. Stand still and spread your legs a little. " He looked down and I could tell from his expression that once again I had surprised him. I just grinned, and taking a dollop of the cool cream, rubbed it between his buttocks and over his hole, at the same time licking the very tip of his cock which was right in front of my face. He jerked a little. "Can you keep very still? For me?"

He did just that and put his hands behind his back as he had earlier. "Mac," he whispered, but he wasn't asking. It was just a general prayer for me to get the hell on with it. I ignored him and eased some lube inside him, fucking him slowly with a couple of fingers, making sure I got him well-stretched. Depending on what Amanda chose to do, he could be well-exercised in that direction before the night was much older, and although he couldn't be permanently hurt, I didn't want him to suffer more than he enjoyed. Did I mention that trying to save a masochist from pain was a little pointless? But I couldn't change who I was, even for him, and I needed to protect him from unwanted harm. At least he was used to me after all these years.

I could taste his pre-cum now, he was getting very aroused by my fingers moving in and out of him, massaging his prostate, and sending, as I well knew, wave upon wave of pleasure through him, even as the fact I was sucking on his cock head meant I was hurting his nipples. The bindings meant I couldn't take him all the way into my throat, but with his foreskin pulled back, the sensitive glans was there exposed for everything I could do to it - and I was determined to do just about everything to him. He shuddered as my teeth scraped lightly over him and jerked once as my menthol covered fingers stroked over his balls. I could smell the desire on him, the faint sheen of sweat building up now. He was beginning to tremble, a sign he was getting close, so I slowed what I was doing with my mouth. I kept kissing him softly on the tip as I concentrated on my fingers inside him - three now, stretching and massaging.

The trembling eased, so I knew I could start my slow teasing again. I rolled his trapped balls back and forth, and began to suck in earnest. The moistened leather would tighten around him more when it dried, but I didn't think he'd mind. As I pulled his erection down, he whimpered a little as his nipples were tugged hard, but I didn't give him a chance to really think about the pain because I began to use my fingers inside him hard, almost roughly. His legs began to shake a little, and his balls were tightening against my hand, and against his restraints.

I could tell to the half second when he was on the edge, and then I bit down gently on his cock head. He screamed and shot into my mouth, his hands coming instinctively to my shoulders and gripping them like he thought he might fly away. I licked every trace of his come from his cock, so he was as pristine as when I started, then laid my face against his legs. My fingers were still inside him, and I liked that, so I didn't move them.

"Mac, please..." I lifted my head and saw he was shaking. I stood, and with my hand still holding his ass, pulled him close.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Damn you, Mac," he said softly. "You're terrible for my control."

"Mmmm mmmm. But you're just as bad for mine, so we're even." He was a little sweaty, but nothing we couldn't quickly clean up. I looked at my watch - ten minutes. I eased my fingers out of him, and kissed his cheek. "Wait for me."

I washed up and got a cloth to wipe him down. He stood submissively as I cleaned his face and his chest, and gave his cock an entirely unnecessary wipe. I laid the cloth aside and got the collar. Another surprise for him - it was two inches wide, rigid plain black leather with a simple D-ring in the front. If I had a fetish at all, it was for the look of black leather against his pale skin, and when I'd seen this in an on-line catalogue, I'd known it would look stunning on him. We had the one he'd chosen, if he objected, but his wide-eyed look wasn't one of rejection.

I held it out to him, to show him. "Methos, I just want you to know - to me, this is a game. I could never really be your master. All this is to me is a decoration on the man I love. I'm sorry if you need me to take it more seriously."

His hands closed over mine. "Mac, I understand. All I mean by wearing it is that I trust you with my life, and I'm proud to be on your arm at something like this. But you have to know, in here," he touched his head, "and in here," his hand over his heart, "I am your willing slave."

"Then wear this for that reason and no other." I lifted it to his lips and he kissed it. His eyes never left mine as I fastened around his neck. I kissed his jaw, just above the leather. "You look so primitive."

I turned him so he could see one of the mirrors. He was still a little flushed from his orgasm, but his body was pale, the dark ties and the collar contrasting strongly against it, and highlighting his black hair and his dark eyes. With me all in black behind him, it was like I was the sculptor of the perfect marble statue before me. "Eric is going to think he's died and gone to heaven," I said.

"I already did," he said, his hand coming up to cup my head as it rested on his shoulder. "Have you got my leash?"

I winced. I hated that word, and I hadn't told him but I had 'forgotten' to bring it. "I have a better idea."

He watched curiously as I gather up another couple of the useful leather ties. When I fastened one to his nipple ring, he opened his mouth, to protest, I was sure, but then closed it. He was paying me the compliment of trusting me on this. I attached a tie to each clamp, then threaded the two of them through the collar ring. Now if I pulled, his nipples were tugged upwards. He was amused by the novelty. "You sure a nose ring wouldn't be more what you want."

I gave the 'leash' a pull and he gasped. "You were saying, slave?"

"Nothing, master. I appreciate your inventiveness. Shouldn't we get moving?"

"You don't give the orders around here," I grinned.

"No, Master Sugarlump."

 

* * *

It was Mistress Amanda who greeted us at the door of the room where the party was to be held. I'd seen Amanda in leather before, but my mouth still went dry at the sight of her in an ultra-tight dark red leather cat suit, relieved only in starkness by one or two strategically placed zips. She was covered from neck to ankle but she looked more naked than in her birthday suit. She extended her hand to me - the purple nails were gone, I saw. "You are exquisite as always, my dear," I sad formally, kissing my hand. Her gaze flicked over Methos.

"Your slave is acceptable, Master Duncan. Is he well-behaved?"

"Not often, " I said, with my mouth twitching. Methos betrayed no emotion at all, which usually meant he was upset, but in this case probably meant he was trying not to grin.

"I think we can improve his manners. We're preparing all the slaves tonight - may I?" As was polite, she ignored him, and asked my permission for the leash, which I handed to her. She tugged and watched the reaction with approval. "Nice work, Duncan. Come, slave. Duncan darling, if you go with Ernst there, he'll fetch you a drink and then you can watch."

Methos was led away and my arm was taken by one of Amanda's mortal pretty boys - also in a one-piece leather outfit. So far, Methos was the only naked person I'd seen.

Inside the room, all was ready for the fun and games. We were to eat Roman style, I saw, and there were already twenty or so men lounging on the cushioned benches, sipping drinks and nibbling from the trays of delicacies set before them. I recognised one or two of the Immortals by sight, and nodded to them, but I was led to an empty couch and asked to stay there. I requested whiskey which was brought promptly, and as I sipped it, I looked at the elaborately sophisticated decor.

Eric was a man who appreciated clean elegance in everything, and Amanda had clearly taken that into account. We were illuminated by soft, yellow electric light, discreetly hidden behind shades, so there was no direct lighting anywhere except from the numerous church candles on sconces on the walls. Most of the guests had opted for black, although there was one young looking Immortal who had gone for all white, which he could just about get away with. The only colour in the rooms except from the lights came from one or two abstract wall hangings, a large wooden carved sculpture near the door, and from the cushions, which, like Amanda's outfit, were dark red. The dark wood floor lent the whole thing a vaguely antique look - the overall effect was warm, intimate, but uncluttered. It looked like a rather classy dining room, which it usually was, of course. The only clue as to what was going to happen tonight were the frames and chains that stood ready for use to one side of the room.

I looked at my watch - it had just gone eight, and sure enough, Amanda was returning with a retinue of slaves behind her. Eight, including Methos, were naked except for their rings and collars, but the others wore black silk tunics which preserved modesty. I was a little puzzled by all this, but I figured that I'd be told what I needed to be, in good time.

The slaves were lined up before us, the naked ones in front, kneeling. Amanda was now carrying a black switch. "Gentlemen, our guest," she announced. And then Eric entered the room. Amanda went down on one knee before him. "Master Eric, please accept this party and the gift of these slaves for your entertainment this evening."

He caressed her hair. "Dear child, my friends. Thank you for coming tonight. I am honoured." He helped her rise, and then she took his hand and led him to where I was sitting. "Duncan, my boy, I am so glad you decided to come. I asked Amanda to have you sit with me, since you won't have Adam here tonight to look after you." He was being incredibly kind and thoughtful - what he meant was, since I was not really part of this, he wanted to make sure I enjoyed it and that I knew what was going on.

"Thank you, Eric. Where's Henry?" I hadn't really expected to see Eric's lover in such a crowd, but I thought he would be nearby on such an occasion.

"He's upstairs. Amanda's given us a very nice room. He's watching it all of course. And he sends his love."

I wondered where the cameras were and hoped Henry was enjoying his solitary pleasure. The first course was being brought in - I had expected the subs to serve, but I must have misunderstood, because we were given plates and implements by more of Amanda's entourage of exquisite young men. The slaves stood where Amanda had ordered them and had not moved.

Once the servers had left the room, Amanda moved forward again. "Gentlemen, the slaves in black have been chosen by their masters to attend to your needs this evening. However, eight of our masters have selected their slaves to entertain us. For now, I will send the body slaves to you, and you may do with them as you wish." She nodded and the black clad men spread out among the guests. Those who were to 'entertain' stayed in the centre of the room. Eric signalled one of the body slaves and whispered in his ear, and the lad went to give Amanda the message. She nodded and spoke to Methos who rose and came over to where we were sitting, then knelt before us.

"My child, you look wonderful tonight," Eric said fondly. Methos stayed silent, a respectful expression on his face but in no way acknowledging the compliment. I suddenly remembered my role.

"You may speak, slave."

"Thank you, Master Eric. Happy Birthday."

"Thank you, child. You do me proud, you really do." Eric caressed his face. "I'm very impressed by the leatherwork, Adam."

"Thank you, sir. My master created it for me."

Eric looked at me, his eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Well, well, Duncan, you _are_ coming along. Off you go, child. I know I'm going to enjoy watching you tonight." He held his hand out and Methos kissed it, and smiled warmly, before returning to the circle of waiting slaves and resuming his position.

"I, uh, didn't decide he wasn't to be a body slave, you know," I told Eric.

"No, my boy, I took the liberty of suggesting to Amanda that she should make that choice for you. I know you two are rather exclusive like that."

He had that right - given the choice of sharing Methos' body and giving him extreme pain, I would have been in a fine old brood for days. Methos was no doubt delighted by Amanda's choice.

As guest of honour, Eric received the attentions of two body slaves as soon as he'd finished speaking to Methos. "Ah, children, don't you look delicious," he said. "Dear boy, would you mind?" indicated a small dipping bowl he wanted held.

The other one, a blond Immortal, addressed me. "May I assist you, sir?"

God in heaven. There were men already receiving blowjobs not three metres away, but I couldn't do that. "Uh, no. Unless you're any good at shoulder massages."

"My master has been kind enough to praise my technique on occasion, sir, if you would allow me." I signalled for him to do so, and quickly found that his chaste silk tunic was no barrier at all. As his strong fingers dug into my muscles, I could feel his erection through his shirt and my own as if there was nothing at all between us. I found it embarrassing and arousing, but a hard-on in this company would, at least, only be seen as a compliment.

Despite his efforts, I found it difficult to look anywhere but at my lover, forming an attractive picture with his four companions in the centre of the room. I wondered when things were to get started, but not for long, as a small wooden frame was already being moved into the centre of the room, close to where the slaves knelt. Amanda had returned carrying a long tailed whip, and she touched one of the kneeling men on the shoulder with it. He rose immediately, and took up a spread-eagled position on the frame. One of the guests - his master, I guessed - got up to supervise his slave's binding to the frame. When he was satisfied, he nodded to Amanda, who handed him the whip she was carrying.

I thought they might announce what they were about to do, but without any ceremony at all, the master laid down the first stroke. His slave jerked but didn't make a sound. I'd been observing Eric long enough to appreciate the art of what the other man was doing, working for aesthetics and for maximum sensation for his sub. The noise was, as ever, startlingly loud, but such was the master's skill that he didn't even break his victim's skin. The other guests were certainly appreciative of the sight - those who were being 'serviced' seemed to be stimulated, and the others were watching with slightly opened mouths and bright eyes. Eric's expression was benign, as usual - I could tell nothing from it.

The sub's silence was finally broken but his cries were nothing like I would have expected from the degree of punishment he was getting. The whipping continued for another few minutes, and then stopped, whether because the sub had had enough, or because it had been pre-agreed, I wasn't sure. The man hung on the frame, his chest labouring hard. His master moved in front of him and caressed him for a long while, then gave him a kiss.

I thought that was it for the evening, but no. As we watched, the master pulled on a latex glove and spent a few minutes playing with his slave's ass, lubricating him and stimulating him front and back. The poor man was hard and dripping but with no sign of relief - I thought he was suffering more now than he had done from the whipping. Finally, Amanda brought a butt plug to the master who put it inside his slave. It was a bit of a stretch for him, and from the way he was shuddering, I thought he might disgrace himself and come, but he settled down. His master gave him another kiss, and left him bound on the frame.

He stayed there for the next course. Around us, the body slaves were offering themselves in various ways. The man who had massaged me had moved on, and was now rubbing the naked foot of a guest not far from us, to his evident delight. Another was on a table, on all fours, his back acting as a tray, and two guests ate from a plate supported by him, at the same time as he took one of them in his mouth, and the other in his ass. How he was keeping the plate so still was a minor miracle to me. Seeing all this was ... uh ... stimulating, for sure, but I wasn't tempted to take up the services so freely offered. There was only one man I wanted to fuck, and he was unavailable.

Eric wasn't partaking either, although he received numerous offers. He let each slave perform some small service for him - to hold a dish, or wash his hands between dishes, or to massage his feet or his shoulders. But his slacks, as mine did, stayed firmly zippered up. I knew Henry didn't mind, so I could only assume it was because he didn't want to show too much favouritism with the slaves, or perhaps he didn't care to be on display any more than I did.

The meal was carefully chosen to be light, easily eaten with fingers as well as forks, and not greasy or leaving unpleasant odours on the breath or hands. The wines were some of the finest I'd ever seen at any meal, and although Eric was only a moderate drinker at the best of times, I could tell he appreciated them. "She's done a wonderful, wonderful job tonight," he said, watching Amanda prepare the next slave for the scene. "She's a credit to the one who trained her." I wondered who that might have been - one of the things about Amanda I'd never known and probably never would.

The first victim was let down, and he was taken over to his master who held him close for the rest of the evening, I noticed. Perhaps another possessive partner unhappy at sharing his lover around, I thought.

His place at the frame was taken by a dark-haired man, a mortal this time. His trial was by electricity, and we ate to the sounds of his torment with electrodes on his balls and on his cock, and on a nipple at a time. Eric wasn't quite as fascinated this time. "Not to your taste?" I asked, pouring him some apricot juice.

"I find the control difficult, and then there are all those nasty associations with various regimes I disapprove of." He shrugged. "We can't all like the same things, and his sub is enjoying it."

He certainly was, if his sweat-drenched state was anything to go by. He too was left on the frame for display as the meal continued.

As well as the slaves, each of the guests made their way over at some point in the evening to pay their respects. It was awe-inspiring, the degree of love and respect my companion was held in. He was a very important part of a lot of people's lives, and they were eager, as Methos and I were, to show their gratitude for that.

Eric loved it - he was, as the old expression went, a people person. His whole life was devoted to helping others in his rather specialised way. It was rare for an Immortal to be so selfless - Grace Chantel was one, Darius another - most of us were self-absorbed, aggressive and rather selfish compared to them. I realised, and was humbled by the fact that I had met some of the most extraordinary people to have ever walked the earth. And I was even married to one of them....

 

* * *

Methos had been kneeling for a very long time by the time all the other slaves had been punished, but his back was still straight and proud, and he looked completely serene. By now, we were drinking coffee and I wondered if he was hungry - he was probably thirsty and I wondered what the protocol was for me to get a drink to him. But Amanda must have read my mind, or at least read Methos, because with a signal to one of the serving slaves, she arranged for a glass of water to be brought to him. Even though his hands were not bound, he didn't make any move to take the drink, but instead let Amanda hold it to his lips. He would, I realised, now be deep inside his head and was probably unaware of much outside his own body. He might have even forgotten I was there.

Amanda made Methos stand then, with a hand cupped under his chin. Even after kneeling for so long, his long body was completely graceful. He stood in the centre of the room and I couldn't work out what on earth was going to happen that would be different from all the other things done to the human flesh there tonight. Amanda nodded to one of her assistants, who brought over a tray. She glanced up, and for the first time, I realised there were pulleys and chains attached to the high ceiling. She spoke softly to Methos, who put his hands out. She attached leather cuffs to his wrists, and as she did so, a pair of chains was lowered from the ceiling.

Methos was always pale, but tonight he seemed to glow in the candlelight, his broad chest stretched tight as he was raised by his arms off the floor until his feet were dangling about half a foot above it. I winced in sympathy - I hoped Amanda wouldn't keep him in that position for long, even he found it difficult to breathe like that. She didn't keep him waiting, being handed yet another of her impressive collection of whips, and walking around him slowly, appraising his position. She reached out a steadying hand, stroking his flank gently and then, stepping back, brought the whip across the back of his legs. The only sound he made was a soft 'unh', barely audible over the crack of the whip.

Unlike the first master, Amanda seemed to be trying to mark him and within minutes Methos was covered from neck to ankle with criss-crossed bleeding wounds, and he was making small sounds of distress. It wasn't a sight I was comfortable with, even after all these years coming to terms with his occasional need for release through pain. My instincts were to protect, not to hurt, and to sit as if I was truly relaxed as I watched my former lover stripe the body of my partner was one of the most difficult things I'd ever done. I literally had to dig my fingers into my thigh to stop myself reaching out to him - even though I knew that to do so would be considered unsophisticated and annoy Methos unforgivably. But Eric noticed, of course - he always noticed when I was uneasy, which is why we both trusted him so much. He poured me a glass of brandy and handed it to me. "Duncan, he's enjoying himself. I know it's hard to imagine, but at this moment, he is transported."

"Yes, I know, I know. But knowing and feeling are two different things." We kept our voices low, but the level of conversation in the room barely dropped, for all that everyone was avidly watching Methos' ordeal. "Eric, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, child, but do drink that first. What's on your mind?"

"You're not a sadist. You're not cruel. You 're one of the most gentle people I've ever met. How the hell can you do this, and watch it and enjoy it?"

He chuckled. "I like to give people pleasure, dear boy. What I can do for him is something very few people can do well, and in return I get so much love and trust and friendship. And there is something so exquisitely beautiful about a strong person testing themselves to the very limits and surviving. Isn't that enough reward?"

"I suppose so," I said a little unhappily. Amanda had stopped hitting Methos, who was being lowered now, and I had to restrain myself from rushing to him. He wasn't allowed to fall to the floor - he was lowered only to the point that his feet were flat on the ground but it looked to me as if his knees weren't supporting him. But Amanda had anticipated me yet again, and Methos found himself being held carefully by two of the black-tunic'ed slaves. I could relax again.

Eric shook his head at my obvious relief. "Duncan, Duncan, you are incorrigible. He's Immortal, you know."

"I know. But this is different from when you do it."

"Yes, of course it is. When I do it, it's for his benefit. Now, he's putting on a show. I suspect that is what is troubling you, but be assured of this. I can see for myself he's enjoying every second. Ah, now. I think this is going to be special."

I was puzzled, but as I had already said more than I should have considering whose party this was, I shut up. Methos and Amanda were now alone in the centre of the room apart from a tray on a little stand that had been placed there a moment before. She began to play with his nipple clamps, pulling on them and moving them from side to side, before removing them both in one move. He hunched a little over the pain of the returning blood but she returned her hands to him, tweaking and twisting until he was once again standing up straight. She took the dangling leather ties from collar and from his cock, but leaving it bound. What was she up to?

I had my answer in a few seconds when she picked a short metal spike, pulled his left nipple and the flesh underneath it forward and then skewered him thought the muscle of the breast.

What the hell? He moaned, and she let him rest his head on her shoulder for a moment, petting him - if it hurt that much, then it was more than just about anyone in the room could stand.

"What ...?" I whispered.

"Shhh," Eric admonished. "Watch."

Suddenly I realised what was about to happen. "No," I whispered. The chains, the skewers ... oh, god, I knew what this was. Okipa - a Native American ritual designed to induce hallucinations through pain.

"It's all right, Duncan," Eric murmured, rubbing his hand on my arm soothingly as I flinched at the idea of what we were about to see. I flushed, embarrassed at making my discomfort obvious and spoiling things for him, but his expression was kindly, even though he didn't take his eyes off the strange tableau for a moment. "Trust him and trust Amanda. Here, sit a little closer."

Quietly I moved over on the cushion, and Eric put his arm through mine and held my hand. "That's better, child. He'll be fine."

I said nothing, not wanting to make a bigger fool of myself. Thank God Methos hadn't heard me. The room had fallen utterly silent, and all the roving hands and kissing had stilled completely. Everyone was transfixed by what was being done to my lover.

Methos turned his head into his raised arms as Amanda pushed the second metal skewer through his left breast, then pulled on it hard to test the seating. This was far, far beyond the kind of nipple torture he enjoyed, and beyond anything I'd ever seen. This couldn't be pleasure, surely - this was just going to hurt like hell. But his face was calm - solemn, without the faint smile he's worn earlier - as if he was concentrating on everything Amanda was doing. Now she was attaching chains to the skewers. I'd read about this, seen pictures, but I just could not believe a tall man of moderate weight could be suspended simply by the sinews and muscles of his chest. I knew intimately how fragile the human body was and how easily flesh came away from bone. All I could see happening was a bloody mess which surely wasn't what Methos intended or what Eric would want to see.

My companion felt me tense again, and gripped my hand harder. "Duncan, my child, Methos is giving me a gift. He knows what he's doing." I turned my head to look at him. This was really getting to Eric - he was normally a very controlled person, but he was in a state of great excitement now, his lips parted and his colour high. Was he really in a fit state to judge whether this was the right thing to do? Perhaps he realised what I was thinking, for he said, "Please, trust me. Trust them. Watch."

Methos' arms were lowered and he winced as the change in position moved his tortured chest muscles. Amanda rubbed his arms and was speaking to him softly, apparently waiting until he was ready for the next step. Then she kissed his cheek and I knew they were going to start. One last thing - a belt with loops was placed around his waist, for what reason I had no idea. And then the chains began to be raised.

He grunted as his weight began to be taken on the skewers. I was frozen, utterly horrified by what I was seeing but unable to look away. Distantly I could feel Eric still stroking my hand, but all my concentration was on Methos. My own breast muscles began to ache in sympathy. 'Be strong, love' I prayed, quite unnecessarily - he was undoubtedly the strongest man I'd ever met - but he looked so fragile, hanging by those impossibly small bits of metal through a thin layer of mere flesh.

The raising was done very slowly - I guessed so there was no risk of a sudden jolt tearing his breast - but watching the slow rise of his body was torture for me. My body felt cold as ice and a cold sweat trickled down my back. It was all so hideously quiet in the room. The only sound I could hear was his laboured breathing, and the occasional whimper of pain. But even what was being done to him wasn't enough for Amanda, and I learned the purpose of the belt as weights were gradually added to it. As the fourth one went on, he screamed, suddenly and briefly, before falling silent again. Amanda waited for a moment, and then continued with the relentless addition of the weights. No more, please, I begged her silently. This wasn't a game any more. I bit my lip to stop myself yelling for her to stop this.

At last she was done. She signalled and he was raised another four feet and then he was left there suspended, slowly rotating. His head and neck were straining upwards against the awkward position and the pain, and his face was in a rictus. "Eric," I whispered in desperation.

"I know, child. All will be well. But you must be quiet now," he said softly.

The minutes ticked by. Amanda began to make Methos sway slightly by pushing on his feet and he cried out again in a language I didn't recognise. It went on and on, the slow twisting of his body, his head and neck showing the struggle he was making against the position and the pain.

And then suddenly he went limp - his head fell back and all the tension in his body disappeared. That was apparently all Amanda was waiting for and she signalled for him to be lowered carefully, plucking the weights from the belt as he returned to the ground. She looked over to me and waved me to come over. I leapt up immediately but Eric's hand restrained me. I looked down at him. "Duncan, for the love of God, move slowly, stay silent. For him."

I nodded and walked quickly to him, my hands clenching and unclenching in my anger but my stomach unknotting as I realised it was all finally over. I swore I was going to throttle Amanda when this was over.

Methos was drenched in sweat and as he was lowered the final few inches all the way to lie on the ground, I caught him and supported him so the weight came off his tits completely. I was conscious of a gentle susurration of discreet applause, but I ignored it - I was outraged that anyone could find this entertaining. I glared at Amanda, who looked coolly back, apparently unrepentant. I cradled him, brushing his damp hair off his face and kissing the top of his head, resisting the urge to babble comforting nonsense at him.

Amanda made me release my hold a little so she could pull the skewers out without delay. The surprisingly small wounds they left began to heal immediately - I knew they would, but it was still a relief to see it. I wanted to carry him out of here and to our bedroom but knowing he would never forgive me for that stopped me doing so. But I promised myself, Amanda was damn well not getting her hands on him again.

"Take him to Eric, Duncan," she said, startling me.

"He can't walk like this," I hissed back sharply.

"I meant for you to carry him," she said reproachfully, which did nothing to dampen my anger.

Gritting my teeth and keeping the comments I wanted to make to myself, with infinite gentleness, I lifted him - no small matter, when he weighed only a little less than I did - and carried him in my arms to the cushions I had left so recently. I laid him down carefully, concerned because he was still out cold, and put his head in my lap. Eric knelt down beside him. "Isn't he beautiful?" he said quietly, touching his face.

"Help me, Eric," I said in desperation.

"Child, he's only fainted. Give him a moment and keep your feelings to yourself for a little while longer. Trust me."

Trust. I didn't think I ever wanted to hear that word again after tonight, if this was what it meant. At last he began to stir and Eric handed me a glass of juice. "Mac?" Methos looked a little confused and as if his eyes weren't focussing.

"Yes, love, I'm here. Do you want a drink?''

"Please." I held the glass for him and he drank deeply.

"Are you all right?"

"Mmmm." And then closed his eyes.

I looked at Eric in confused helplessness but he put a finger to his lips to signal silence.

Methos' skin was very cold and I wished I had a coat to put over him - ah, Amanda was there with a thick warm blanket which we tucked around him. She picked up on my anger but shook her head. 'Not now' she mouthed, and I grimaced.

Eric took her hands. "Amanda, sweet girl, you've done so beautifully. Let me kiss you."

She bent and he kissed her cheek, and whispered in her ear. "Thank you for an exquisite treat, child. Now, I'll let you get on. I'll see to Methos and Duncan."

She looked at me and frowned. "Duncan, we can talk tomorrow, but for his sake, don't examine this tonight," she said quietly.

"It's all right, Amanda," Eric said. "I'll talk to him. Good night, my dear."

She walked away, her annoyance with me clear even in the stiff-backed and precise way she walked away. Not an Amanda walk, I thought. Then I realised I was irrevocably spoiling things for Eric, who disliked immature emotional displays, but he forestalled my apology. "Duncan, dear, this has been very difficult for you, I know, and you've been brave in allowing it. Why don't we get him up to your room? Otherwise the poor thing will sleep right here, and that will be awkward."

I nudged Methos and his eyes fluttered open. "Come to bed, Methos."

He rolled over and cuddled my leg. "Don' wanna," he muttered.

Eric looked at me with smiling eyes. "The downside of the endorphin high," he said and finally I was able to begin to see that this might have been something Methos actually loved doing.

"I can't carry him all the way to the room," I admitted.

"No. Wake the lazy infant up and I'll help you. "

Complaining, Methos eventually got to his feet and with Eric on one side and me on the other, and keeping him firmly wrapped in the blanket, we walked him out of the room and towards the lifts. "What about the party?" I asked belatedly. But even as I spoke I saw couples drifting out of the room, and Amanda's people beginning to clean up.

"There's not much you can do to top what he just did, and people need to process. Just as you do."

"I'm sorry ...."

"Not here, Duncan. Soon enough."

Methos was going to kill me, I thought, for ruining Eric's special evening. I hadn't felt this gauche and uncomfortable since Kristin took me in hand, and I wondered if Eric or Methos would ever forgive me for this. We'd had so much fun this afternoon, I thought regretfully, and I'd gone into the party with every intention of letting it all just happen without judgement. I still had no idea why see Methos suspended in that way had affected me so powerfully, and overcome over a decade's patient handling by him and Eric but the last thing I was going to do now was make an even bigger fool of myself by questioning Eric as we manhandled my semi-conscious lover towards our room.

We got him onto the bed. "Duncan, let's clean him up. If you'd get a cloth?"

I fetched a box of cleansing tissues from the bathroom. When I came back, I found Eric had taken the collar from Methos and was in the process of freeing his balls - I'd almost forgotten about all that. He massaged Methos' cock a little - it was quite limp, and I wondered if Methos had found any of the evening arousing, or whether he had transcended mere sexual arousal.

Eric examined the leather ties before laying them aside. "That was nicely done. You made him look very beautiful tonight, Duncan."

I was too upset to accept Eric's praise, and instead concentrated on wiping Methos clear of the blood from the whipping. He was fast asleep during all this, and only mumbled a little as Eric and I lifted him and got him under the covers. Eric bent and kissed his brow. "You did very, very well, child," he murmured, stroking his hair. "Thank you."

Methos muttered something but sounded happy, then curled up and was once again dead to the world. "Well, I've never seen him _quite_ this relaxed before," Eric laughed quietly. "Duncan, come to my room. We can talk."

"It's all right, Eric, I know I was being an idiot...."

He put his finger to my lips. "Indulge the birthday boy, Duncan. He'll be perfectly safe and when you get back you can give him lots of affection which he'll need from you."

I kissed Methos, and said his name, but he never woke. He would, as Eric said, be completely safe. I turned off the light and followed Eric a few doors down the hall to his own room.

Henry was there and he sprang up to greet me. "Oh my God, Duncan! I've been so worried about you. The look on your face when Methos ... would you like a drink? Coffee, whiskey?"

"Whiskey would be nice," I admitted and let Eric lead me over to an armchair. "Eric, let me say something...."

"No, child, let me. Age has its privileges after all. First of all, you aren't a fool, you haven't ruined anything, and I owe you an apology."

This was the last thing I expected to hear. "What...? How come?"

"The okipa was my suggestion - or at least, I'd said to Amanda how much I'd like to see it done. That was some time ago and I guess she and Methos cooked it up between them. But I should have realised, even if she didn't, that making you sit and watch that was really being very unkind."

"I'm just being stupid ... I've seen worse done to him. And I know, in my head, that he likes it."

"Yes, child, but the heart and the head are two different things, as you said earlier. Here, take your drink." Henry handed me the glass, then sat on the floor next to my chair, putting a hand on my leg. "Let me ask you a question - if I had done that, with your help, in the privacy of my home, how would you feel about it?"

I thought carefully. On the rare occasions when Methos had come to Eric for the kind of extreme catharsis he needed to overcome some great inner disharmony, I had helped Eric do things which to any observer would look far more vicious than what we'd seen tonight. And yet I had never been anything like as disturbed. "I guess," I said slowly, "I trust you enough that I would know it was what he wanted and what he needed. I know you would never do anything to harm him."

"Yes, exactly. But you _don't_ know that about Amanda."

"Yes, I do...."

He held up a hand to stop my automatic protest. "Yes, in your head, you do. In your heart, Amanda is your former lover and a potential threat to Methos. You were also in a room full of Immortals and however much we intellectualise it, we are biologically disposed to find them a threat. In fact, my dear boy, considering the circumstances, you were incredibly restrained, and I thank you for that."

He was being kind again. "No one else behaved the way I did."

"No, because it wasn't their partner who was being hurt. When the other men were being whipped and so on, how did you feel?"

"I knew their masters were their lovers and so they were safe."

"Yes, but you were the only 'master' in the room who had no control over what was happening. It's a very difficult thing to do - no, not difficult, I'd say impossible - to sit and watch without becoming protective."

Henry stroked my leg and looked up at me, "Duncan, as soon as I saw what was happening, I knew Amanda shouldn't have. Not tonight, not in a group like that. I found it disturbing too." He turned to his lover. "I'm sorry, darling, I know it was your treat, but honestly, you can go too far with this stuff."

"Yes, Henry, I know. But you mustn't blame Amanda. She hasn't been doing this half as long as I have, and if I didn't see it, then why should she?"

I stared at him miserably. "But it was your birthday present. Methos is going to be furious."

He dismissed my objection with a wave of his hand and a smile. "It _was_ a gift, and even though there was a slight flaw in it, it was still very beautiful. The only thing that would 'ruin' it is if you go away from here blaming yourself for an entirely justifiable and natural reaction. Methos won't blame you, and if he does, I shall put him straight. He's very old and wise, Duncan. Just because he was so deep in subspace he wasn't thinking about your reactions tonight, doesn't mean tomorrow he won't be full of remorse. If you love him, you will let him know it's not _his_ fault either. What he did was just incredible, amazing. I'm so glad to have seen it."

Henry kept up his gentle caresses on my leg and between that and the whiskey he'd poured me with the usual generosity of the non-drinker, I began to relax and put things in a little perspective. Methos hadn't come to harm, and my reactions were, now I could think again, what I should have predicted for myself. I hadn't been told what they were up to - I should have insisted, but since I didn't and they didn't tell me, things were as they were.

"What do I need to do with him? His reaction's a little weird," I asked.

"It's just more extreme because of the greater pain and because he spent hours in anticipation, watching. That really messes with your head. Just do as you always do, Duncan. Love him, let him cry or whatever, let him orgasm, or let him make you come. The one thing I have an absolute certainty of is that you know exactly what's right for him. All you need to do is not worry. He's perfectly well and I would say, perfectly happy."

"And you two?"

Henry looked up at me and smiled. "He'll look after me, Duncan. He always does."

 

* * *

I undressed quietly so not to wake him, and slid under the covers. Still fast asleep, he immediately moved closer into my encircling arms, and mumbled some nonsense when I kissed him. In the very early days of our relationship, I had wondered if we were, as two powerful, independently minded males, were ever going to be able to take when the other one wanted to give, and to submit when one of us needed to show caring concern, even when it wasn't necessary. I shouldn't have worried. Methos had no ego at all about appearing weak and giving into my protective instincts and he'd taught me, slowly and patiently over the years, that it was okay not to be the strong one all the time and to let him look after me when I needed it.

He knew I liked to hold him more than to be held, although I liked to be held too, and we'd never quarrelled, not even once, over any perception that I was treating him like the 'little woman'. As he'd proved over and over, and as he had tonight, making himself vulnerable was only possible because he was so strong. A weak person wouldn't risk failure, or embarrassment, or even shame, by letting themselves be treated that way.

So as he lay in my arms, quiet and at peace, all I saw was his strength, not his helplessness. True, if we were suddenly faced with a challenge, he might, because of his extreme doziness, be in danger, but that was what I was there for. He'd been my sword arm often enough. Tonight, I was his.

He was horny as hell when he woke - even before he woke, as he began to move against me with a powerfully hard erection in his sleep. I reached down and make a loose fist for him to thrust into, gently teasing a nipple with my free hand. I think he woke up just as he came with a gasp, his eyes squeezed shut, then flicking open and staring right into my own. "Good morning," I smirked at him, rubbing his come into the fine skin of his stomach.

"Oh, boy, that hasn't happened for a while." He stretched, but then curled right back in the same position he'd slept in all night. "Damn, I feel so good. Should be illegal."

"I'm almost certain it is illegal in some states," I said lightly, but he twisted up to look at me.

"Mac, I don't remember much about the end of last night, but ... you were upset, I think?" I kissed him but he pulled away. "Don't distract me, Mac. Are you okay?"

"I am now. Eric looked after me, explained a few things. I'm fine."

"Hmmm." He yawned. "Don't know whether I want to fuck or sleep."

"You could fuck _and_ sleep," I said but then he frowned again.

"You didn't come at all last night. You had a horrible time."

"I didn't come because you know I want you to give me that, but I didn't have a horrible time. I had a few bad minutes at the end, that's all, and it's not your fault. It's nobody's fault. Eric specifically told me to tell you that, and he'll explain it to you if you don't get it."

"Did Eric ...? Damn it, did I ruin things for him?" He cursed again and got out of the bed.

I sighed. I was handling this badly. I got up too and reached for him. "No, you didn't ruin anything. He said that he was amazed and delighted. Look, let's have a bath and if we're going to talk, do it like intelligent people."

"That'll make a change." But he let me hold him. "I didn't think about what it might do to you."

"You didn't have to. Methos, I can make my own mind up about things. I won't lie and say it was the most life-affirming hour I've ever experienced, but I was glad to be there to help you. Let's have that bath."

He was in a mood to pamper me, so I let him wash me and stroke me. As I lay against him, he played with my erection, gently teasing me towards climax but never quite reaching it, and then moving his hand down to touch my balls as he nibbled the sensitive skin of my nape. Soon he had me shuddering, arching into his hands on my cock and on my nipples, and begging for him to make me come, which he did, biting my shoulder, the sudden intensity of the pain and my climax almost making me black out.

"Now that's what I was saving myself for," I said weakly as I sagged back. "No one can do it to me the way you can."

"Not even Amanda?"

I picked up his hand and kissed it. "Not even. Because I don't love her the way I love you."

"You were jealous of her, weren't you?"

"No, Methos, you've got that all wrong." I told him what Eric said and he listened in silence. "It's a problem that only Immortals can really have. It's not her fault, or yours, or Eric's, or mine. It just is. We all learned something from it. And you had a good time, didn't you?"

"Oh, Mac, if you could only know...." His voice became reverent, a little soft and dreamy. "I was in a whole new place in my head. I couldn't tell you if I was hanging there for five minutes or five hours or five days. I couldn't hear anything, I didn't even remember there were other people in the room. "

"You know the Mandan used them for visions."

"Oh, yes, and I can see why. I mean, it hurts. The pain is just overwhelming - terrifying. But once you move past that...."

"You'd do it again?" I asked softly, holding his hand in mine.

"Definitely. But not soon and not in these circumstances."

"Would you prefer it if I didn't come with you to this sort of thing? Or be with you at Eric's if you want to try this again?"

He wrapped his arms around my chest and held me tight. "Absolutely not, Mac. No way. I want you there - I _need_ you. I can only let go and feel safe because you're there. You knew how nervous I was before last night - that was only partly performance anxiety, Eric's right about the atavistic reaction to other Immortals."

"But up at his place - you feel safe there."

"Yes, but if you weren't there, I'd feel I could never share that with you." He made me turn my head so he could see my face. "Have I made it impossible for you to do that any more?"

I kissed him. "No. I've just got some thinking to do. I know I don't really want to watch you go through something like that again in a group situation, but if you ever felt it was important to you, it won't kill me to be there. There is literally nothing I would not do for you, Methos, up to and including giving up my head."

He gripped the body part in question and stared into my eyes. "Promise me, Duncan MacLeod, you will not ever do any such thing."

"Methos ...."

"Promise me! Or I swear I'll walk out and leave you forever. I will _not_ have the burden of your death on my hands, I will not allow you to even think it's a possibility."

I was shocked to see actual tears in his eyes, and I gripped his hands. "I promise. I swear on my honour, Methos."

He was shaking, and the tears fell. "Damn ...."

I twisted and knelt up so I could hold him properly. "No, Methos, don't cry. I've promised. Don't be like this." I petted him into quietness and decided we needed to get out of the bath, into warm clothes and get some food inside us. This was still an overhang from the night before, I was sure of that, but it was still a shock that he was so emotionally vulnerable to my careless words.

I helped him out of the bath and dried him off as he stood passively like a child. His eyes were full of grief, and still the tears threatened to fall again. I wrapped him in a thick bathrobe, and pushed him into an armchair while I ordered our breakfast over the room's comscreen. Then I came to kneel in front of him, and looked up at him. "Another argument against doing this again," he said in a wobbly voice, "if it makes me behave like a simpering maiden with the vapours."

I laid my head on his lap. "It was a very intense experience, Methos. Give yourself time to adjust. We'll be here for the rest of the weekend." I looked up. "Eric said you could talk to him about it."

He nodded. "I might need that." We sat quietly like that, until the food arrived and he was calmer by then.

Cooked breakfasts had gone out of fashion decades before, but I felt the warmth of hot food would do both of us good so I had ordered us bowls of soba noodles and a pot of green tea. He was obviously hungry and wolfed everything down - after all he hadn't eaten in nearly twenty-four hours. His colour had returned and by the time we were sitting, sipping the tea afterward, he was looking a little happier.

"What would you like to do today?" I asked, stroking his arm lazily.

"Mmmm, you choose. You mentioned the pool - would you like to swim?"

"Maybe this afternoon." Actually, all I really wanted to was to take him back to bed and make love to him, but I was reluctant to do anything to destroy his new-found calm. "Eric suggested we might have lunch with him and Henry, or supper. Just the four of us."

"Lunch would be good." He glanced over at the clock. "Is it as late as all that? Would you be annoyed if I went for a walk and then had a chat to Eric? We could meet for lunch - I'll page you."

"That'd be fine. I want to talk to Amanda anyway."

He lifted his head. "Duncan ...."

" _Talk_ , Methos. I'm not going to challenge her for God's sake. Not over your scrawny old butt." He grinned. "I may have hurt her feelings, I need to explain myself to her."

"All right, but just remember, she didn't do anything to me that she didn't ask me about first, or without my complete consent. If you want to smack arse, you can smack mine."

"You'll do anything to get a spanking, won't you?"

"Just about," he grinned, and my heart lightened as I realised he was cheering up. He dressed quickly then gave me a kiss. "See you later?"

"Sure. Don't forget to page me."

As soon as he left, I sent a message to Amanda's mailbox and asked if I could meet up with her that morning. Then I checked our emails and the net news. While I was dressing, there was a knock at the door, and to my surprise it was Amanda. Even more to my surprise, she was very upset, almost in tears.

"Amanda, what's wrong? Come and sit down." I made her sit and poured her some of the remaining tea but she pushed it away.

"Oh, Duncan, I've been so worried - are you very angry with me? I hadn't realised what I'd done to you ...."

I pulled her into my arms. "No, Amanda, I'm not angry with you. Calm down, it's all right." Boy oh boy, I'd made a mess of this whole thing. Methos crying, now Amanda.... "Have you spoken to Eric?"

"No," she said, sniffling. "I was afraid I'd find he was mad at me too. I wanted it to be so good and it just was horrible."

"No, it wasn't. Come on, Amanda, it's not like that. Eric loved it. He thought it was amazing, all of it."

"Really? But you were so mad at me, honey."

"Yes, I was and I was on my way down to apologise for being such an insensitive prick."

"You know I'd never hurt him, not ever. You _know_ that, don't you?"

"Yes, sweetheart, I do. Don't get all upset again. Why don't you drink the tea?"

"Can I have something stronger?"

"Sure," I said, and made her a stiff drink. It was only eleven o'clock but who the hell cared? She gulped it down and a little more colour came back to her cheeks. "Amanda, it's not like you to get so worked up. And when has my being mad at you ever upset you this much?"

"Duncan, you weren't _annoyed_ \- you wanted to _kill_ me. I was scared. I mean, I know you _wouldn't_ but that I made you _feel_ that way.... I've been working so hard to make this all perfect and I forgot about how you might react."

"Amanda, Amanda," I said soothingly, patting her knee, "you have a million things on your mind. I can look after myself. And I wouldn't ever hurt _you_ either, you know that."

"I _know_ ," she said, then burst out, "It's just I've never tried something like that, and when I saw your face ... and Methos just went _limp_ and didn't wake up ... afterwards, I thought, I should have gone and made sure he was okay, that you were. I did a lousy job."

Now, Amanda wasn't a great one for self-doubt, so I knew she was really rattled and upset by this. "Come over to the bed, and lie down. Take your shoes off. Take it all off, if you want, just come and get comfortable."

"Methos?"

"Talking to Eric. Don't worry, he wouldn't mind."

She kicked off her shoes and loosened her belt a little and then lay, a little nervously, next to me on the bed. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her forehead. "Now, stop this. First of all, the evening was amazing. Eric loved it - I was right next to him, and I know he did. Second, Methos was fine and he had me and Eric to look after him. If Eric thought you should have been with him, he would have said, right?" She nodded. "And third, yeah, I could have done with some warning, but then I probably would have got all worked up about it in advance. Methos said it was the most incredible experience, and so did Eric. I'd say you did a great job."

"But you ...."

"Amanda, you _know_ I'm not into all this, not the heavy stuff. I knew that before I walked in. I could have declined the invitation, I could have asked for more information. It's not your fault. Have I ever let you off when I think you're in the wrong? Am I not the first person to offer to kick your butt when you are?"

She laughed a little. "You sure are, honey. You're my walking, talking, brooding Scottish conscience."

"Right. So if I'm saying you did good, you did good. I was mad at you last night for about twenty minutes. And I had no right whatsoever to be angry. So, you can give me your worst punishment for that, if you like."

Her eyes lit up. "Really? Whips and chains and stuff?"

I gulped. "Okay. If you like."

She laughed again. "Oh, Duncan, baby, as if I would. Okay, I accept what you say, but I'm still sorry you got upset."

"And I accept that." I hugged her again. "Do you feel better?"

She sighed. "Oh, lots. I couldn't sleep. If Methos hadn't been here, I'd have been knocking on the door at two a.m. wanting to talk."

"Can't you talk to Nick?"

"About you? Duncan, you know what he's like about my, um, old flames."

"I was forgetting. Well, I'm here. Just don't tell him I took you to bed, okay?"

"God, no." She sat up and smoothed down her outfit - more purple, but a different shade this time. "Methos said you gave him a beating yesterday - how did you feel about that?"

"Like a damn fool," I said ruefully. "But he had fun and got relaxed. I love watching him enjoy himself."

"Mmmm, me too. It's so incredible, knowing you can send someone into that place in their head - the power is just unbelievable."

"It's not my thing, but maybe I'll tie him up and give him a flogging if he's been particularly bad."

"Or particularly good," she said, smiling. "Oh, Duncan, when you're like this and all reasonable, I could get so jealous of Methos."

"Yeah, but how often does that happen?"

"More and more since you married him. So we're good?"

I lifted her hand and kissed it. "We're good, my love. Now run along and play with Nick."

"Oh, I can't, he's being host to another group we've got. But I _am_ busy. Will you come to dinner?"

"Sure. You let us know."

She stood up and then gave me a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek, before closing the door, leaving me smiling. What a beautiful creature she was, and still full of love and fire after a thousand years. If I wasn't so deeply in love with Methos, I would be jealous of her Nick. Maybe I was a little, anyway.

 

* * *

I needed to do some physical exercise, so I made use of the hotel's well-equipped gym for an hour or so until Methos' voice page came, saying we were to meet Eric and Henry at one o'clock. Perfect. I thought it was time to reassert a little ownership over Methos, and make him stop feeling responsible for my reactions last night. I paged him back and told him - actually, I ordered him - to meet me in our room. I thought about showering and then smiled at the idea of Methos sniffing me. He always pretended he didn't like me all sweaty and smelly, but I noticed he always got a little turned on when he found me after a workout session, still in my gi, and dripping perspiration.

He was a little annoyed at my curt message. "Miss Manners forget to call this morning, MacLeod? You better get cleaned up if we're not going to be late," he said, opening a bottle of water and swigging from it. The little frown between his eyes wasn't because he was cross - it told me he had a headache, and I guessed that he was still a little thrown by all that had happened. I took the bottle from his hands and he glared at me. "Mac, do you bloody mind?"

I gave him a slow, lazy smile - the one that always worked on him when he wasn't mad at me. "Not at all. Drop your pants, Methos."

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused. Now drop your pants and put your hands behind your head."

"Duncan ...."

"Did I say you could speak?" I said softly.

He suddenly got it, and although he was now more puzzled than annoyed, he undid his belt, dropped his trousers to his ankles, and then put his hands at the back of his neck.

"Now turn around." I held him steady so he didn't trip, but didn't let him step out of the puddled clothing. "I'll be back in a moment."

He stood completely still and I was back in seconds with what I needed. I undid the string holding up my workout pants and let them fall - unlike him, I made sure I wasn't hindered. I pressed my body behind him, my naked lower half rubbing against his buttocks, my cock sliding up and down his cleft. "I want you, Methos," I whispered in his ear. "I'm going to fuck you, like you haven't been fucked in years. And then I'm going to make sure all you can think of this afternoon is my cock inside you."

"Mac ...?"

"This isn't up for discussion, Methos. You belong to me. I'm going to remind you of that."

My hands stroked over his nipples, rubbing them through his shirt as I nuzzled at the back of his neck, licking the slight salty taste of him, and nibbling his laced fingers. "God, Duncan," he sighed.

"Shhh," I whispered in his ear. "Let me do this."

He sighed again, and I felt his body relax a little. I slid my hands in his shirt so I could feel his warm skin, now pebbling into goose bumps in the wake of my fingers. I moved my hand down to his groin, and petted and tugged a little at his crisp pubic hair, the only coarseness on his silky smooth body. I was glad he hadn't shaved for the party. "You need this, don't you?" I asked him, and he shivered.

"Yes," he whispered. "Mac, please?"

"Yes, Methos. I'll look after you."

I picked up some lube and rubbed it on the fingers of one hand, and the palm of the other, and as I breached him carefully I took his half-hard penis into my hand. He shuddered and instantly became fully erect. I wasn't _too_ gentle with him - he didn't want gentle, I knew that, but I kept licking the back of his neck even as my fingers began to fuck him, slowly, deeply, aiming for the magic spot each time, making him tremble.

I raked my teeth over the skin at the corner of his neck as I stroked his cock with my greased hand in strong, smooth movements. His hips bucked, as if he was trying to decide which was better, my fingers or my hand. "You're my slut, Methos," I whispered behind his ear. "No one gets this but me. I'm the only one who gets to make you come. You're going to come so hard your brains will leak out your cock, and then I'm going to fuck you until you can't breathe, I'm going to be so big and hard inside you ...." With a yelp he came over my hand.

His legs went a little weak, so I pushed him carefully forward, over the bed, supporting him with my arm around his chest. I slathered my cock with his come, and replaced my fingers in his ass with my erection, moving into him in a single, smooth movement. He shouted my name as I filled him. "That's right, Methos. It's me, Duncan. Don't forget that. Don't forget who loves you, who's going to be with you forever, who is behind you and beside you and with you ...." I babbled on and on, punctuating my words with slow deep thrusts that he greeted with little grunts, hips rising to meet me. His hands were fisting in the bed cover, and what I could see of his face was a mask of concentration, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth a little open as he breathed in hard pants as my cock sank into him.

I was too aroused to last long after that. My own climax roared out of me, but I kept thrusting slowly as I came, while I reached for the plug I'd fetched earlier and put on the chair. I pulled out of him, and pushed the thing in, so he wasn't empty for more than a second. He gasped at the larger diameter of the plug and wriggled as I seated it fully. I lay down on top of him, stretching my half-naked body along his. "Feel my come inside you, Methos. Feel what's like to have something big and hard in you, because we get back to the room, I'm going to fuck you again. And then we're going to have a swim, and I might fuck you in the locker room, or the shower. Because I can. Because you're mine, and I belong to you, and no one and nothing is going to stop us. Okay?"

"Fuck," he said faintly, and I laughed, kissing his neck. I moved down and kissed his lower back, each buttock, then wiggled the butt plug in and out a little, which made _him_ wiggle. Then I let him up, and helped him stand. He was a tousled mess, and shaking with spent desire. I pulled up his boxers and his pants, tidily tucked him in and zipped him up, and smoothed back his hair. I didn't bother dressing - I needed a shower. "Jesus, Mac, you nearly gave me a heart attack. You want to warn me if you're planning to get all medieval on my ass?"

I tilted his chin towards me, and kissed his lips. "Do I need to warn you I'm going to take what's mine?" I said softly, but with my dangerous smile number three.

"No, Duncan, you don't." He closed his eyes and smiled. "In the locker room. Oh my."

"And in the garden, and in the car going home, and in front of Eric if I want to."

He smiled at me, and with his finger traced a trickle of sweat that was running my neck. "Not that I mind, but what the hell brought this all on?"

"You think too much, love. I just wanted to remind you that not all the fun needs to be in your head." And then I kissed him. He'd been scrounging coffee off Eric and Henry, I could taste. "You okay? Is that thing comfortable?"

He wriggled a little. "It's lovely. Not as good as having you in me, but that's a little inconvenient." He laid his cheek against me. "Thank you, heart. You're much too good to me."

"I'm exactly as good to you as you deserve, Methos." I ruffled his hair. "I'm going to take a shower and then you're going to wash your face and brush my hair so we look nice and normal for Eric."

"Yes, Master Sugarlump. Whatever you say, Master Sugarlump. I'm yours to command."

I grabbed him around the waist and then I took the lips I claimed as my own because I could, and he wanted me to. "And don't you ever let me let you forget that, Methos."

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written nearly twenty years ago under another pseudonym. It hasn't been revised (or reread by me) since then.
> 
> I am posting this and my other stories from this period purely so people can read them if they choose. I won't be reading comments, and don't care if you leave kudos. I'm dumping them and running.
> 
> Having said that, I worked hard on them, and I hope they still entertain someone out there.


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